


Snipe Hunting

by AHumanFemale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10042784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHumanFemale/pseuds/AHumanFemale
Summary: Donna goes on a hunt with Dean.  Dean has ulterior motives.





	1. Cursed Objects

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff with some serious notes. Chapter two incoming.

**Snipe Hunting**

  
  


Chapter One:  Cursed Objects

 

 

“So, explain to me again what I'm doing here?” Donna asked as he parked Baby off the side of the road, hoping to get as close to his previous tire tracks as possible so Donna didn’t notice them.  

“Cursed object,” Dean answered, killing the engine and pocketing his keys.  “We’re going to hunt for it.”

“And Sam didn't want to come?”

“Sam wouldn't be able to do anything,” he replied as he reached for the door handle, “It's got a certain set of requirements.”

She swallowed and followed him out of the car.  “I don't like the sound of that one bit.  It sounds like you’re going to throw me into a volcano.”

“No volcanos, I promise.  It just has a thing for hot blondes.”

She balked, leaning against the side of the car. “What?  That’s it?”

“Yup.  I wouldn’t be able to see it - that’s why I need you.”

“I thought you needed me because  _ you  _ had a thing for hot blondes,” she teased, stepping close.  Dean grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt he’d loaned her for the hunt and pulled her close, stealing a quick kiss.  Her wavy hair was loose and his fingers itched to run through it.

“I have a thing for  _ one  _ hot blonde.  Especially in those tight jeans and my shirt,” he answered and Donna’s skin flushed, from the tips of her ears to her toes.  He had long since memorized everywhere that blush would have shown up but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to rediscover it at the earliest opportunity.  Maybe once this was over, if everything went like he wanted it to.

Winding up with Donna had been hard going - it turned out the two of them never did anything easily.  It was a lot of wasted time, agonizing over who didn’t deserve who and who deserved a normal life without the other one in it.  Dean was an emotional trainwreck and Donna was a burned divorcee not really looking to repeat the experience.  But God, when he touched her.  When he touched her none of that mattered because she was so goddamn gorgeous and happy and she made him feel like all the nasty shit that’s happened to him the last few years didn’t matter as much as he thought it did.

In the end, Donna drew her line in the sand.  She was going to love him whether he liked it or not, was going to want him no matter what he thought of himself, and he could either get on board or learn to keep his hands to himself.  

Getting on board was the smartest decision he’d ever made.

“Aren’t you going to open the trunk?” Donna asked him once he stepped away and headed to the mouth of the forest a few feet away.  

“No, why?”

“We’re not taking a weapon?”

“We don’t need one,” he answered and saw the reluctance on her face.  He sighed, turning back to her.  “Donna, would you feel better with a weapon?”

She nodded enthusiastically.  “Yes.”

“Alright,” he said, opening Baby’s trunk.  He didn’t want to argue or she’d figure it out.  He watched her eyes glance over her options, lingering just a little too long on the grenade launcher.  Barely suppressing a grin, he nodded in approval when she picked an old wooden baseball bat.  

“Good choice,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  “Don’t hit me with it.”

She winked up at him.  “Don’t sass me and I won’t have to.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They took off at a leisurely pace as they worked their way into the forest, following the path for the moment.  The sun was setting behind them, throwing golden light over everything around them.  Fall was in full swing, letting a chill loose in the air that had him pulling his coat a little tighter around his shoulders.  He was suddenly happy he’d insisted on Donna bundling up before they’d left.  And If she happened to be warmer in one of his sweatshirts, so be it.  He had a possessive streak that reveled in the visual reminder that she was his.  

After a few minutes, they veered from the path.  Dean had mapped their course out almost exactly, telling her that he had an idea where the object was hidden but needed her help finding it once they got there.

Donna swung her leg over a fallen tree.  “Is there some reason we have to do this now?  It’s getting dark.”

“Witching hour,” Dean said by way of explanation.

“Isn’t that the middle of the night?”

“Not for this witch.”

She shot him a skeptical glance.  “If you say so.”

Donna was too trusting of him, Dean decided with a half smile.  If they ever had to tangle with a shifter again she was toast.  He trudged through the woods, ever so slightly behind her.  The leaves had finally turned colors and hit the ground, making a carpet on the forest floor in varying shades of red and gold.  Perfectly as planned, if a bit late.  Fall had taken for-frigging-ever to get there, meaning he’d had to put off this hunt way longer than he’d originally planned.  

“So, how’s work?” he asked as they walked.  “That new deputy still giving you hell?”

“Nah, I’ve just about got him under control,” she answered, swinging the baseball bat distractedly at her side.  “He’s just gotta make peace with the fact that I’m the head ‘B’ in charge.”

Dean laughed.  “I feel like a head ‘B’ in charge would actually say the word.”

“Not this one.”  She bumped his shoulder with her own.  “Don’t make fun of me.  It’s not my fault I never had a rebellious stage.”

“Says the woman trouncing through the woods with a felon and a baseball bat.”

She stepped out in front of him, swinging the bat up to rest on her shoulder.  “You worried, handsome?”

“Of you with a weapon?  Every damn day.  I’ve seen the way you look at my grenade launcher.”

“It’s the exactly same way I look at you,” she told him, standing on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his chin.  “Like I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”

She was making it very difficult to stay on task.

“Come on,” he said, turning her shoulders back around setting her walking again.  “I’ll be happy to discuss that further once we’ve taken care of this.”

“Funsucker,” she teased but let herself be guided.

His spot came up earlier than he was expecting.  He'd barely gotten the nerve to go through with it, but now Donna was looking straight ahead and gripping the bat a little harder, until her knuckles turned white.  

“Dean?” she asked over her shoulder.  “Are you seeing what I'm seeing?”

“What?” he replied, playing dumb.  

“The tree.”

“What about it?”

“It's glowing.”

“Huh,” he deadpanned. “I told you only a hot blonde could see it.”

Donna stepped forward, bringing the bat up.  The hole in the wide oak tree was lit up from the inside, resulting in the glow Donna noticed. Dean had accomplished it by lining the space with little LED candles he found at the dollar store but she didn't know that.  She thought it was magic and treated it like a hunter would - a potential threat.  It made him proud to see her suspicion.  Only an idiot with a death wish would go rooting around in a tree for a cursed object without a second thought.  But his Donna was smart and tough, so she might end up smashing it to bits before she ever realized what it was.

“Is it going to give me boils if I touch it?” she asked, doing her best to get an eye on it from afar.

“Not that I know of,” he answered, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “See if you can grab it.”

Dean rocked back on his heels, nerves getting the best of him while he watched her approach the object.  The sun continued to lower itself toward the horizon as she picked up a scrap of lacy white fabric - part of a tablecloth he’d liberated from storage in the bunker.  Her fingers brushed the object under the cloth and his blood pressure hit the roof.  God, what had given him this stupid idea?  Why hadn’t Sam and Jody stopped him?  They sucked.  They were getting a piece of his mind when he got back.

“It’s some kind of box,” she said and he could hear the confusion in her voice.  Her grip on the bat tightened again.  He suspected that she’d knock the box into space if it so much as rattled at her.  “Should I open it?”

Jesus.  Fear clawed at him until he felt like he was going to collapse on the forest floor.

“Yeah,” he answered.  “Go for it.”

Some part of him receded to the back corner of his mind while she took the box out of the tree and opened it, the silver ring glinting in what was left of the sunlight.  Ever the hunter, she noticed the runes engraved into the outside first.  Trying to place them as something nasty she’d tangled with already.  She took the ring out, turning it around in the light.

“Is this the cursed thingy?” she asked, holding it out for him to examine it.  Finally, her eyes caught the engraving on the inside.

_ Always.  Dean. _

“That’s it,” he confirmed as her jaw fell open, eyes the color of hot coffee darting to meet his.  

“This is…”  She swallowed hard, still holding the ring between her fingers.  “This is a fake hunt, isn’t it?”

Dean balked.  “What?”

“You took me snipe hunting!” she cried indignantly marching over to demand an explanation.  

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered.  God, this was going down in flames right in front of his eyes.  This was his punishment for trying to be romantic.  He should have known not to venture from his comfort zone.

“And I fell for it!” she marveled.  “Like an idiot teenager with a crush, I just let you drag me out here.”

He could see her starting to panic, her eyes giving him a window straight into her rioting mind.  Clearly it wasn’t the fake hunt that was bothering her.

“Donna,” he started, reaching for her hand to pull her closer.  He was running on instinct now, trying to salvage what he’d done.  She went to him willingly but her eyes darted to her shoes and stayed there.  He hadn’t seen her do that in years.  She was self-conscious, and if his instincts were right she may have even been downright afraid.

“I, uh.  I know how you feel about this kind of thing,” he told her honestly, having heard her thoughts about marriage long before tonight.  She felt like she'd failed at marriage years ago and a repeat attempt would only serve to make sure she failed Dean, too.  She could never fail him but that wasn't something she realized yet.

“That’s because I’ve told you.  Near a million times now, I bet.”

“I know that, but I'm not trying to put shackles on you.  I don't want a circus or a party or anything.  Hell, it won't even be legal since I've been declared dead for a few years now.”

Her head cocked to the side and she scowled.  “You have?”

“Long story.”

Donna giggled.  Maybe he was getting somewhere after all.  

“I just wanted to give you something to show you that you're it for me.  I'm taken,” he explained, straining to communicate everything he wanted to without knowing how.  “So are you, if you want to be.  I want you to be taken too.”

“Are you proposing to me, Winchester?” she asked coyly, making him think that maybe she'd managed to push her fear to the wayside.  At least for the moment.

“Yes.  That's what I'm trying to do, anyway.”

“I hate to break this to you, but I've been taken for a long time now.”  She gave him a bright smile.  “I ain't so much as looked at another man in years.  Why bother when I've got the best of them in my bed already?”

“Damn right,” he grinned, ignoring the impulse to deny her praise.  He'd long ago stopped trying to convince her that he didn't deserve it.  “Does this mean you'll wear it?”

She beamed.  “Only if you put it on.”

Dean huffed out a laugh and took the ring from her, frowning when she offered her right hand.

“The other one.”

“Whoops, sorry.”

He slid it onto her dainty little finger, satisfied at all get out that it fit.  He'd made it himself, from melting the silver down to the engraving.  He'd sat down with a dremel in the garage and spent the better part of a weekend practicing before he committed anything to the real thing.  Some of the lines weren't quite even and the words on the inside weren't exactly pretty but the way Donna looked at it on her hand told him it didn't matter.  

“What are the designs on it?” she asked, voice breaking.

“Runes,” he answered.  “For protection, so you're safe and I feel better.  That one is for bravery so we don't get scared and try to run from each other.”  He pointed at the last, holding her hand in his.  “This one is for love.  Because I do, Donna.  I love you so much more than I thought I could love anything.  And I want you to remember that, even when I'm an ass and I can't say it.”

“That’s not much of a curse,” she teased him, flattening her hands over his chest.  Her eyes shone with tears.  

“Sure it is,” he replied.  “Whoever wears it is cursed to be stuck with me forever.”

“Then sign me up.”

He ducked his head down and rested it against hers, closing his eyes as she came up the rest of the way to kiss him.  It was sweet and simple, no longer tinged with the fear he’d seen in her eyes a few minutes earlier.  She moved her hand up to cup his jaw and the cool metal against his skin from her ring made him shiver.  The possessive streak in him widened a little and his blood heated to a simmer.

“I love you too,” she whispered against his lips with a smile.  “More than I thought I could love anything.”

He grinned.  “I’m sorry it can’t be official or anything.  I mean, if you want to take my name you can.  You just wouldn’t have a marriage certificate or anything to back you up if someone questioned you.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked.  “For me to take your name?”

“I would love that.  But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“If I did would that make me a widow?” she asked and he chuckled.  “You know, since you’re dead and all.”

“I guess so.”

“Oh gosh.  That means I’m also a necrophiliac.”

He smirked.  “Yeah, but you’re terrific at it if that makes you feel any better.”

Donna grinned.  “Ya know? It kinda does.”

The sun finished setting and he kissed her again, delighting in the feel of her arms wrapping around his waist.  The fake magic tree glowed behind her and she tasted like the lemon cookie he’d seen her eating earlier.  Blood rushed in his ears and his heart thumped heavily in his chest.  Some part of his brain tried to riot and run because it wasn’t often he felt like his life was perfect, or that he was exactly where he needed to be.  It wasn’t until Donna shivered in his arms that he realized night had fallen and the temperature had dropped.  

“Come on, grave robber.  Let’s get you warm.”

Donna snorted.

“You gonna talk to your widow that way, Winchester?”

“Yeah.  Every damn day for the foreseeable future.”

She squeezed his hand as they walked back to the path that brought them there.

“Good.”


	2. Love Exists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna reciprocates the romantic gesture.

It had been close to three months once Donna got everything in place.  

Three months of requests and paperwork and signatures, eventually wearing down her romantic gesture to something that felt more like a chore.  Donna didn’t have the flare for romance that Dean did, anyway.  He always said the right things while she stammered around her feelings.  She told him in other ways - feeding him, doing his laundry.  Bringing Baby back to him with a full tank of gas.  Stitching him up.  

Keeping him close in the middle of the night, when he wakes up unsure of where he is.

Taking him into her body so deep he forgets he's hurting.

It was the closest she could get to screaming it from the rooftops, where everyone in the world could hear her.  And something told her that Dean wouldn’t be crazy about that anyway.  So she made calls and stood in lines and signed her name roughly a billion times out of love.  Love for the man who saved the world about eighty different times and still thought he was worthless.  Love for the man who’d seen through her insecurities and brought out the hunter in her - strong, brave.  Fierce and fucking fearless so long as he was next to her.

It was love that drug her out in a snowstorm to cover the distance between Stillwater and Lebanon, going unbearably slow and checking the envelope next to her every hour or so.  Her phone stayed on the charger the whole way.  She was waiting on a crucial phone call before the end of the day and she hadn’t had a peep yet, making her even more nervous than she already was.  She twisted the silver ring on her finger, feeling it warm against her skin as she drove.  Calling up the bravery he’d taught her, she pulled in front of the bunker and grabbed her bag from the passenger seat.  The envelope sat on top - a neon billboard of anxiety, blinking on and off to remind her of what she was doing.  Her mood blinked with it. 

Nervous.

Confident.

Nervous.

Ignoring that insecure voice in the back of her head, she texted Sam to let him to know she was there.  Dean’s brother had been perfect in this affair, offering to sneak her in and keeping her secret.  He met her at the door, ushering her inside and locking it again.  

“Hey,” Sam said, wincing against the cold.  “You made it just in time.  The weather’s getting bad.”

“Does he know I’m here?” she asked in a stage whisper, shaking the snow off of her boots.  She didn’t want to ruin the surprise this early.

“Nah.  He’s down in the garage, doing something.”

“I’m going to steal your shower if that’s okay.  I don’t want him to catch me.”

“Go for it.  I’ll be in the library.”  He gave her a pained smile.  “Out of your way.  Maybe with headphones.”

“You hush,” she ordered as she took off toward Sam’s room.  “Did you boys eat already?  I can whip something up if ya want.”

“We’re good,” he assured her as she walked.  “Oh, Donna?  You have to wiggle the hot water a bit if you don’t want to die of frostbite.  But don’t wiggle too hard or you’ll melt.”

She made a face.  

“Old pipes,” Sam said apologetically.  “Yell at me if you need something.”

“You betcha.”

Donna didn’t know what he could possibly help her with but she was thankful for the offer.  

It took close to two hours for her to wash away the long drive and the tiredness in her bones, primping in front of Sam’s utilitarian mirror and humming.  Overall, she was pleased with her work.  She’d blow-dried and crimped her hair, turning it into a chaotic riot of curls that framed her face.  She had to use her industrial-grade concealer to cover the circles under her eyes but that was okay.  Compensating was easy if you had mascara and cleavage, and Donna had an abundance of both.  

Particularly in her form-fitting red dress, plunging neckline cinched tight to give the girls a boost.  The rest of the dress clung to her skin, stretching over her waist and the generous width of her hips before flowing out to swirl around her legs.  The silhouette made her curves look like dynamite and the brick red made her look tan, even in the midst of her winter paleness.  Hidden on her left side was a slit that bordered on indecent, starting at the hem and stretching up until a few scant inches under her hip were all that remained.  

Seeing the dress in the store window had made her stop in the street and bringing it home had been her own dirty little secret.  She’d been saving it for a special occasion, feeling a little stupid because she never went anywhere that would require that level of dressing up.  It hadn’t occurred to her until she was packing that maybe she didn’t have to go out to wear it, since there was only one pair of eyes she wanted on her anyway.

She walked out of Sam’s room to dump all her stuff in Dean’s room instead, clutching her envelope to her chest as she ventured down the hallway.  Her phone stayed in her hand, still waiting for that phone call.  Cheese and rice, they were cutting this close.  She’d left her shoes off and was regretting it - the stone floor was freezing.  Sam had kept his promise and was holed up in the library, looking over some textbook she could read cover to cover and still not understand.  She waved at him as she passed, twirling her skirt.  He laughed and gave her a once-over, followed by a hearty thumbs-up.

Score one for Donna.

The garage was situated lower than the rest of the bunker and Donna let herself wander on autopilot, finding her way with very little effort now.  She found the door she was looking for and opened it as quietly as possible before tip-toeing down the stairs.  As she reached the bottom she could see Dean at his makeshift workbench, sketching something on a piece of grid paper.  The desk lamp was bright in his eyes and she watched as he rubbed the heel of his hand into them, blinking against fatigue.  He picked up the pencil again, worrying it against his lips.  

He was beautiful.

“Hey you,” she said once she’d reached the landing.  She held the envelope behind her back along with her phone, partly because she wanted to hide them and partly because she really wanted him to notice her dress.  

Dean’s gaze jerked up from his paper in surprise to find her in the room with him, mouth opening slightly.  He must have liked it because he looked at her like she was a piece of pie he couldn't wait to get his lips around.  It was a look that worked on her like a drug, making her antsy and already testing her self control.  He cleared his throat and swallowed, staring intensely as she walked toward him.

“You're here.”

She grinned.  “Noticed that, did ya?”

“Hard not to,” he replied as she came to stand between his legs. 

“Ya busy?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I fell asleep on the job and this is all a dream,” he told her and as he reached out to smooth his big hands over her hips.  “You look… God, Donna.”

She couldn’t help the flush that tinged her cheeks.  “You sweet-talker.”

“What’s the occasion?  ” he asked, still running his hands over her sides.  The warmth of his skin greeted her through the fabric of her dress and traveled outward.  “My birthday isn’t until next week.”

“I’ve got something for ya.”

“Other than you?”

She laughed.  “Other than me.”

“If it’s this dress, I accept.”

“It’s kind of the dress.”  She held up the envelope, wishing she could stop the tiny shakes in her hands.  “But this goes with it.”

“Hmm,” he said, looking at it.  Without warning he stood and grabbed her under her thighs to lift her up, heaving her flush against his body before sweeping his work to the side and setting her down on his desk in front of him.  It never failed to turn her knees to jelly when he did that.  Her dress parted at the slit, exposing the length of her leg and his eyes darted to the newly exposed skin.  His tongue snuck out to wet his bottom lip.

“I'm definitely dreaming.” 

“Focus,” she reminded him, waving the envelope in front of his face. 

“I'm getting there,” he insisted, brushing his fingers around her knee.  The calluses scraped, bringing up goosebumps.  “Don't rush me.” 

Donna kept her mouth shut and let him take his time, barely managing to stay still while his hands fluttered and danced over up her legs and across her waist.  He moseyed his way up to her chest, massaging and circling his thumbs until her head tilted back with a sigh. Finally he pulled her back up to face him and kissed her, tongue dipping in for a taste. Gosh, this man.  He could make her heart gallop like a racehorse.  

Dean pulled back, looking satisfied when he noticed her heaving breaths. 

“Hi,” he said sweetly, as though he hadn't just revved her engine to kingdom come.  

“Hiya,” she breathed.  

“Alright, let's take a look at this,”  he said, taking her whole life in his hands when he removed that envelope from her grasp.  He opened the clasp and took out a credit card, holding it up and frowning.  “I think this is considered entrapment, Sheriff.” 

“And here I thought you were observant.”

Dean scowled, going back to the card in his hand.  “Alright, it's a chipped Visa that expires in two years issued to-”

He paused and his eyes jumped up to hers. 

“- Donna Winchester.” 

He set the card down, taking out the next. 

“Debit card, Donna Winchester.”

A smile threatened to form, lighting him up.  For a moment she could imagine what he was like twenty years ago, before life had knocked him around. 

“Social security card, Donna Jean Winchester.  Car registration, insurance, CPR certification.”  He put the pile of cards to the side, looking at her intensely.  “You did it.”

“Yah.  I did it.”

Her phone rang, interrupting the staring match between them.  Dean looked surprised when she reached for it, apparently expecting her to ignore it.  Any other day she would have but she had a feeling she wanted to take this one.  A glance at the caller ID confirmed that it was the call she’d been waiting for all day.

“Hello?” she answered, pressing the phone to her ear.  Dean tilted himself into her, standing in the welcoming cradle of her thighs and leaning down to run his lips over the racing pulse at her neck.

A gruff voice asked, “Is this Donna?”

“Yes, this is Donna Winchester,” she answered, pleased with the rush of air against her throat.  The sound of her new name hit him like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of him and spurring him into action.  His hands gripped her waist and pulled her to the very edge of the desk, forcing her to wrap her legs around him to keep from falling.  Her dress fell open.

“Chief?”  she interrupted when she realized she hadn’t heard a word he’d been saying, “Hold on, you broke up for a second.  Let me put you on speaker.”

She tapped the button and set the phone down next to them, bringing her arms to wrap around Dean’s neck while his fingers traced her spine.  

“Okay, go ahead.  What was that?”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I was telling you that your transfer was approved,” he told her and Dean’s head came up, confused.  He’d heard her talk about needing a change but didn’t know she’d put in for a transfer.  “The city council had a peek at your resumé before they voted and they transferred you in almost unanimously.”

She met Dean’s eyes when she responded, “Chief, that’s great news!  I can’t tell ya how excited I am to be joining the team.  You’re really making my day here.”

“We’re happy to have you.  Is a month long enough for you to relocate?  We're really pretty desperate for you.”

“Oh, I might could manage half that if I can talk some boys into helping.”

“Good.  Welcome to Kansas, Sheriff Winchester.”

Donna thanked him again and ended the call, never taking her eyes off the man in front of her.  For once his expression was unreadable.

“You missed the last card in there, handsome,” she teased softly. He said nothing, slowly removing a hand from her back to reach into the envelope next to her.  He pulled out the last card, looking at the Kansas driver’s license so hard it might explode. The silence continued and all Donna’s fears came roaring back. 

Maybe her living in Minnesota was working for him.  

Maybe he didn't want her in the bunker, getting in his way all the time. 

Maybe he hates that she didn't talk to him about this first. 

Maybe this wasn't what he'd had in mind when he put that ring on her finger. 

She braced herself against that last one.  It hurt to think about. 

“I don't want ya to think I'm moving myself in,” she blurted out, the words leaving her in a rush.  “If you want I can just get an apartment in town.  The new job is in the next county over so I can find a place there I bet.”

“No.”

Oh, gosh. 

“No what?” she asked, voice barely more than a whisper. She was doing her level best not to cry - she was such an idiot at this. “No living here, no apartment? No me?”

“No apartment,” he answered gruffly.  “No living the next town over.  No more living apart.  I want you here, Donna.  If I'd known this was something you wanted I would have asked you a long time ago.  I wanted to and I talked myself out of it every time because I wasn’t ready to hear you say you’d rather stay in Minnesota.”

Her chest deflated, relief just about turning her inside out. 

“This is real?” he asked, holding up the new driver’s license.  She nodded.

“One hundred percent.  Stood in line for an hour and everything, arguing with the clerk that the name change was fine because I had it legally changed on my social security card.”

“You didn't have to,” he reminded her but he clearly didn't mind, hands taking hold of her calves and massaging his fingers into them.  The skin of his neck flushed, telling her that his thoughts were slowly but surely turning elsewhere.

“I wanted to.”  She reached up to cup his jaw in her hand, feeling the scratch of stubble across her palm.  “You’re already a part of me, Dean.  The name was just a formality.”

His body grew taut, the line of his back straightening.  She could feel the ache in the pit of his stomach as though it were her own, knowing now how Dean surrendered himself to the sensation of wanting her.  Recognition of the familiar settled in.  Dean dragged his callused hands over her legs, teasing as he neared the meager scrap of lace that separated them.  He wouldn’t touch her there.  Not yet.  First he’d kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see anything other than him.  He’d leave marks across her chest and down her stomach in the process of working his way around to taste her.

Dean’s fingers brushed over her, interrupting her train of thought.

Or maybe not.

He kept his touch feather-light, just teasing the barest surface of her skin under the lace.  Little sparks of feeling erupted, lighting her up.  Donna arched into him, crushing her chest against the hardened wall of muscle in front of her and tightened her arms around his neck.  It was all the permission he needed to step back from her embrace and shove the material of her dress out of the way so he could hook his fingers in her panties and tear them off her.  

Dean wasn’t playing around today.

His fingers found her unerringly, like he’d been made to do this to her.  She suspected he had.  He had been made to slide between her folds, seeking and giving simultaneously while she bucked into him.  His thumb brushed the tight bud of her clit and she soared, wondering for the first time if she was made for him too.  It sure felt like it, his fingers stretching her out until the burn was all she could feel.

The emptiness made her ache when he took his fingers from her.  She didn’t have the chance to protest, though, not when they slid up to cover the cluster of nerves at her center.  He circled, applying pressure at seemingly random intervals.  Donna yelped but canted her hips up anyway - her body never seemed to be able to decide wanted from him, especially here.  It wanted everything he had.  All of it, all at once.  

Dean didn’t relent, rubbing his fingers in ever-tightening circles across that pearl of flesh.  Her eyes closed and she let go of her hold around his neck, leaning back on her hands to stay upright.  The intensity was killing her but that seemed to be what he wanted.  He reveled in every cry and jerk of her muscles, pushing her closer to the edge with manic glee in his eyes.

“Please,” she murmured uselessly, his attention elsewhere.  He gave her a quick kiss but went back to his task, scraping the pads of his fingers over her clit.  She shook.  “Dean - oh,  _ fudge _ \- Dean, please.”

She expected him to pull away, to get inside her already.  She didn’t plan on him centering every bit of his energy on killing her, pinching her between his fingers and flicking intermittently.  It was harsh, almost painful, and she flinched even as her body pistoned up for more.  Dean kept going.  She felt her orgasm retreating to the background and she cursed before realizing that there was a tidal wave building.  Deep inside her, muscles trembled and bunched in anticipation.   Her legs tightened around him, she clutched at the desk without gaining purchase, and he never relented.  

Blood pounded.

Heart stuttered.

Toes curled.

Lungs heaved, and then she was gone.

Coming so hard she saw stars behind her closed eyes and collapsed onto the desk behind her only to arch her back off of it again when the onslaught continued.  Her entire body felt like a wildfire; doused in kerosene and left to burn.  Dean’s touch calmed, slowed, grew gentler as she came down.  She could hear the echo of screams in her ear but didn’t recognize them as her own, not when the next sound she heard was that of Dean’s zipper and his hoarse apology.

“I’m sorry,” he told her roughly, shoving his jeans down just far enough to free himself from their confines.  “I’m sorry, I can’t wait.”

He hooked her legs over his arms and then they were one, Dean’s rigid flesh sliding home in an instant.  She tensed, shaking.  Her body still felt like it was attached to jumper cables and the slide of Dean’s thick head within her didn’t do much to help.  Her hips came off the desk and he used it in his favor, pulling her against him at the same time he thrusted into her.  She felt the resulting pressure all the way to the top of her head and it was possible her eyes may have rolled back.  

Dean didn’t believe in messing with a good thing so it was there he stayed, yanking her onto him and spearing himself into her.  Over and over, until the garage echoed with the sound of slapping skin and her wanton moans.  Even Dean was vocal, and he was usually content to enjoy her noises without adding his own.  Now he had to tell her how perfect she looked and how much he wanted her; how tight she was around him, and how much he needed her to come with him.

She did, just because he asked so sweetly.

Her body clenched and pulled him in, wrenching his release from him before she’d come down from her own high.  Dean choked, eyes scrunched closed while he came.  Donna could feel it filling her up, the torrid weight of his cock pulsing inside her and sending shockwaves through her overwrought nerve endings.  He gasped and groaned, cursed and pleaded until his body relaxed and he pulled air back into his lungs like it was the sweetest oxygen he’d ever tasted.  

It took him a minute but he reached for her and pulled her back up to lean against him, wrapping her up in the furnace of his body.  She jolted as he slipped from her body, a soft cry leaving her throat.  Dean dressed himself again and pulled her off the desk, turning to keep her in his lap while he sat back in the chair.  Donna wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her head on his chest, uncaring about the noise or the fact that it probably wasn’t very comfortable for either of them.

“I still think I’m dreaming,” Dean croaked into her hair, rubbing his hand over her back.

Donna laughed.  “I’m dreaming with ya, then.”

“You’re really coming to live here?”

“Or my name isn’t Donna Winchester,” she joked, tilting her head up when she felt his finger on her chin.  

“Your name is Donna Winchester,” he repeated, seemingly in awe.

“Yes it is.”

“And you’re coming to live with me.”

“Yes I am.”

He leaned down for a kiss, stealing her breath because this was one of the rare moments that his feelings were broadcasted across his face.  This man loved her.  He loved her a whole helluva lot.

“Does this mean I can wear my ring now?” he asked.

“You have your own ring?”

“Well, yeah,” he said as though that should have been obvious to her.  “I made them together.”

“Well put it on already!”

Donna stood so he could get up, collapsing back in the chair once he started rummaging through the desk they’d just thoroughly debauched.  He found it in a drawer, hidden in a little velvet pouch.  Something told her the ring on her finger had started out there, too.  He turned and held it up to her.  It was the same as hers but with a wider band, made bigger to go over his knuckle.  She reached for it and held it in her hand, letting her see the two side by side.

“It doesn’t have the engraving on the inside,” he commented as she grabbed his left hand and pulled him closer.

“Don’t worry,” she told him, sliding the ring onto his finger.  “I know just what I’m going to put.”

_ Forever.  Donna.   _


End file.
